


Tongue-Tied

by jazzypizzaz



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Alien anatomy, Blow Jobs, Humor, M/M, More silly than smutty, Odo only discovered sex several days ago, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Solid!Odo, so he's the equivalent of a horny teenager.....
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-06-11 06:52:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15309816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jazzypizzaz/pseuds/jazzypizzaz
Summary: Quark convinces Odo to try something new.





	Tongue-Tied

**Author's Note:**

> I'm thinking this happens after the events of [What Is This Feeling?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11216526/chapters/25058736), in the same 'verse.

“Not that I’m complaining or criticizing or begging you to stop, quite the opposite in fact, believe me, and it’s perfectly normal when first starting out!  Or maybe it isn’t, though it’s certainly nothing to be ashamed, but,” Quark prattles as Odo bodily drags him away from the busy bar, fingers digging into Quark’s upper arm, “has it ever occurred to you that three times before noon is a _bit_ excessive?”

 

Odo scoffs.  He closes the door to the back storeroom behind them.

 

“And this is me saying this! _But_ , ooooh…” Quark cuts off for a moment as Odo gets to work kissing at Quark’s neck and rubbing his ears. “But, your libido is _out of control._ ”

 

The troublesome organ that was the impetus for this situation is hard and large pressed against Quark’s hip.

 

“I get it!  I do -- I was a pre-apprentice once.  That age after you lose your first set of ears, but before you get your first apprenticeship, I mean.  When you discover that lobes are useful for more than listening to the clink of latinum, and even the sensation of a _tribbling_ rain will set you off…”

 

Odo responds by scraping his nails along Quark’s lobes, and this elicits a high moan from Quark.  Quark shudders with pleasure.

 

“But I have a _business_ to run, things to do.  Right now there are thirty-percent more customers than usual at this hour, I still have to do lunch prep, and without me around that Bolian _Ulnk_ is in charge.  He doesn’t even eat most of the same foods as Bajorans!  How will he even know if the hasparat is spicy enough?”

 

“I don’t see how that’s _my_ problem,” Odo says and stops rubbing Quark’s lobes to peel off Quark’s jacket.  He takes out a small half-empty tub from his pocket and sets it on the counter beside them, then resumes with the oomox.

 

“It’s in your best interest too: if my business starts suffering because without a moment’s notice you’re dragging me off back here every hour, then I’ll have to find other ways to turn a profit!   _Less than legal ways._ ”

 

Odo scoffs.  “As if you aren’t already.”  He reaches around to unclasp Quark’s trousers.

 

Quark stops Odo’s hand before he does.  He shakes his head. “Ah, ah ah. What I’m saying is -- and trust me, I’m as disbelieving as you are that I’m saying this -- but I don’t have time for um, _that_ , right now.”  Quark picks up the small tub, which contains _lube_ , and gestures with it at Odo.  “You know how I’m useless afterwards.”

 

“Implying you’re useful otherwise,” Odo huffs, but he retreats from his ministrations to stand back from Quark.  He folds his arms against his chest in frustration. There’s a comically large bulge straining the front of his pants.

 

Quark stares for a moment at that bulge.  A little drool escaping from the corner of his mouth, then he shakes his head as to convince himself to not look at it.

 

“Fine, I’ll find someone else then,” Odo says.  An empty threat; he’d be mortified to bring this “problem” of his to anyone.  Quark, of course, doesn’t count.

 

(He’s not just _anyone_ , to Odo.)

 

“Here at Quark’s, we have a number of erotic holosuite programs suited to every taste --” Quark starts in on his sales pitch as an automatic response, then cuts himself off.  He has a better solution. “ _Or_ , we can do that other thing I mentioned.”  He licks his lips.

 

Odo glares at him, unimpressed.  “ _Teeth_.”

 

“You have to trust me --”

 

“Why would I trust the most untrustworthy person I know?”

 

“Then trust my selfishness that I wouldn’t want to perform an act that would harm someone who could immediately arrest me for assault.”

 

“It doesn’t seem sanitary,” Odo says, frowning.  “Considering what other functions both organs perform.”

 

“That’s what you said about kissing, and then about, um, intercourse, and yet here we are.  You’ll like it at least as much as those, possibly more.”

 

They stare at each other for a moment in a stalemate, Odo considering his options and Quark waiting to close the deal.  Finally, Odo lets out a deep sigh.

 

“Fine.”  

 

“Well don’t sound so excited about it,” Quark mumbles, even as he’s salivating in anticipation.

 

Odo rolls his eyes, then drops his pants and underwear unceremoniously.  His pasty bare legs, knobbly knees, and saggy skin are on full display.

 

As is his very impressive erection.

 

Quark drinks in the sumptuous view, then kneels down, scooting up closer to Odo.  He rubs his hands together in excitement. “Relax and enjoy!”

 

Odo screws his eyes tightly shut.

 

Quark’s tongue shoots out.  

 

It extends at least twice as long as most humanoid species, quite a bit longer than a Bajoran’s or human’s, though not quite as long as a [Denobulan’s ](https://78.media.tumblr.com/6fab82fcecef45780e5736d79e5913c5/tumblr_ms7ss9uJN21sz38w9o2_500.gif), and definitely longer than Odo’s own.  It [ wraps ](http://www.cyto.purdue.edu/cdroms/gh/HTML/program/media/CCrodasclepius.gif) around Odo’s shaft several times, wet and warm and pink like a corkscrew worm that found a particularly cozy branch.  

 

A tongue does this.  In particular, _Quark’s_ tongue.  That quick-moving muscle that lives in Quark’s mouth and spends every waking minute shaping the barrage of lies, lewd comments, and general nonsense that is responsible for the majority of Odo’s headaches.

 

That very tongue has entwined itself around Odo’s erect cock.

 

Before Odo can let out so much as an emphatic grunting _uuuhhh!,_ it slides along his skin back into Quark’s mouth.  The mixed texture of the tongue, with its landscape of soft bumps and coarser patches, along with the chill of the air afterwards as an abrupt contrast to the tongue’s heat, is a whirlwind of delirious combinations.

 

Odo tries to speak and all that comes out is some sort of guttural noise in his throat.  He plops down onto a box of extra-sour Trillian shandy. He looks down at Quark’s altogether-too-smug face.  He opens his mouth and lets out another eloquent grunt at him.

 

“I know, right?” Quark says, smirking.  “It’s a pity more species aren’t properly appreciative of Ferengi.”

 

“Hnnng,” Odo says.  Then he regains control of the situation by roughly gripping Quark’s lobes and pulling him towards his crotch.

 

Quark complies.  His incredible mouth eel slithers and slides down Odo’s cock.  A tentacle of pleasure, a worm of delight, a rope of ecstasy. Odo twitches and groans and thrusts.  The tongue twists and squeezes and pulls along his shaft, every movement a revelation.

 

Barely a minute later, with a grunt and a raspy groan that emanates from somewhere deep within, Odo’s own trouser snake sprays its salty seed across Quark’s face, and Odo melts back onto a shelf along with stacks of old tube worms and outdated squill sauce, utterly boneless.

 

Quark blinks for a few seconds in surprise, dripping in cum, then scrubs his hand across his face. “I always forget about that part.  Hoo-mans... That didn’t save me any time, now I’ll have to back to my quarters to change clothes!” He roots around in his jacket on the floor and finds a handkerchief.  “Well, do you have anything to say for yourself? ‘Sorry’ would be nice, or ‘I’ll return the favor tonight’, or even _thank you_?”

 

“Hmmph,” Odo murmurs from beneath a tray of cocktail garnishes on the shelf above him, then promptly starts snoring.

 

Quark makes a show of checking the time on a pocket padd.  “Oh my! Off to my rendezvous with the rare orchid smugglers from Dossius Prime!” he announces, pointedly watching Odo, but there’s still no response beyond louder snores.  

 

“Sleep the day away then -- keeps you out of my ear hairs -- but don’t blame me if you get fired,” Quark says petulantly.  

 

Then, watching the rise and fall of Odo’s chest, Quark’s face softens.  He carefully pulls Odo’s pants back up then drapes his own jacket over Odo’s torso.  

 

“May your dreams glint with latinum ...or whatever.” Quark whispers as he leaves. “Hopefully that will keep you satisfied at least through the lunch rush.”


End file.
